


Where Do We Go From Here

by Prettie_Parker



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jon Snow is a Stark, Jon Snow knows nothing, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jonasfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8880232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettie_Parker/pseuds/Prettie_Parker
Summary: Everything can change in an instant.Everything.And then there is only before and after.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU Modern, but it’s crucial to me these characters still feel ‘in character’. Otherwise, who the hell am I writing? I can’t explain where this story came from or why I got the bug to write a modern AU for these two, but that is what happened. This story takes place in present and past, and the timeline will always be clearly marked. All you need to know going in is that Sansa is not a Stark by birthday, she is an Arryn and the rest will reveal itself.

**Where Do We Go From Here ******

Jon rummages through his clothing, balling the fabric in his fists before rapidly shoving items into his duffle bag. Five days ago his brother died. Robb was taken in a fiery crash when his SUV went off the side of a cliff. And while Catelyn could hardly stand him most of the time, Jon would have never wished the fate of losing her eldest son upon her.  


His thoughts had gone to his siblings and father a as soon as he learned the news. Arya, Bran, and Rickon all flooded his mind. They were so young. Too young to lose their big brother, their hero. And despite years of trying to keep her at bay, Sansa and Robby found their way into his thoughts too, he couldn’t imagine what they were going to through.  


Five days ago his brother died and the media has been a whirlwind ever since. It’s not every day the son of a well-respected senator dies suddenly and so tragically. It’s not every day a tragedy of this magnitude turns into salacious scandal.  


Jon followed the story enough to know an investigation was conducted to determine any possible foul play since the car was so badly burned, but the snowy road and sharp cliff the SUV tumbled down looked to be the real culprit.  


But the investigation did find something else, something that left blood in the water and had the media ruthlessly swarming. Robb had his personal assistant in the car, not wife or child. A woman who was rapidly unfolding to be his mistress. Jon knew better than most what Jeyne Westerling had meant to his brother. What he hadn’t realized was those feelings were still alive and burning.  


The story grew more salacious by the moment. Tales of a torrid affair from a rising star on the political scene, eldest son and heir to one of the most well-known and respected families. A young man set to follow in his father’s prominent footsteps. Robb had been as respected as the Stark name until he secrets came creeping out of their dark corner with his death. Stories of private trips to exotic locations, dinners in the city, penthouse suits in the finest hotels.

Jon shoves another sweater into his duffle as he catches sight of the TV out of the corner of his eye. Watching his brother get dragged through the mud makes him sick. Jon’s always looked up Robb. Believed Robb was better than him in every way. So many times he had wanted to hate him for it, but never could, not even now.  


A flash of red hits the screen and his eyes turn fully to follow it. Sansa stares back from the TV screen, surrounded by a team of family and friends, they move for the car as the press swarm her with questions as if her husband hasn’t died five days ago. 

As Robb’s wife the story has been ruthless on her. Painted as some poor widow duped by the love of a charming wealthy man who wanted to have his cake and eat it too.

Jon can’t help but notice how exhausted she looks. The dark circles under her eyes, the way her once vibrant hair now hangs off her shoulder in a messy braid as she clutches a knit sweater and scarf close to her body, but there’s a fire in her eyes as she suddenly turns toward the camera’s. 

Abruptly halting the parade trying to get her to the car and away from these vultures. Someone said something, Jon hadn’t heard it, but the look in her eyes tells him so.  


“My husband was a good man and whatever the press thinks they’ve dug up, let me be clear- There is nothing you think you know about him that I didn’t. Nothing.” She lashes out with her head held high, before a man Jon recognizes as his father’s lawyer swoops in, wrapping a secure arm around Sansa before leading to the car. 

Grabbing his thick jacket, Jon yanks the zippers on his duffle closed and slings the bag over his shoulder. He knows there’s only one thing he can do in the midst of all this… Go home.

 

 **Six Years Earlier**  


Having grown up with Robb and Jon, her mother- Lysa was best friends with Catelyn Stark, practically sisters. And when Sansa’s father ran off to Sweden to start a new life, with a new family, Catelyn had taken the girl under her wing while her mother nearly went mad with the loss. 

Robb and Jon were her best friends, they were her family. Robb her teasing, over confident older brother who was great at everything. And Jon who was always broody and sullen, but secretly wore his heart on his sleeve. Robb was fun and could always make her laugh, while Jon was always there when she needed someone most.  


Her connection to Robb had been instantaneous. Catelyn’s eldest, her beloved son, it had only made sense they would be close, but Sansa’s love for Jon had taken time. She had found him moody and frustrating when they were children. Losing his mother at seven then having to move in with his father was a loss she didn’t understand as a child. 

She hated to admit it, but for a time she had bought into the belief Jon was beneath them just because he was the illegitimate son of Ned. The product of a widely known, but never spoke affair.  


Her love for Jon had been a quiet subtle thing, sneaking in when she didn’t notice, until suddenly the feeling hit her, all at once. 

She still remembers the very moment she realized he was dear to her. She had been eleven at the time and was trying to sneak around the Stark house at a holiday party, trying to hide from her mother’s creepy new husband- Peytr, when Jon had pulled her into a small hideaway beneath the stairs where they hid out the rest of the party. 

He never said it, never asked, but she could tell he knew she was hiding and why. But he never judged her, not even when she had judged him countless times. And after that day, Sansa realized Jon was someone she could count on. Someone she could trust.  


Sansa loves the smell of the bonfire she, Jon and Robb are huddled around. Loves the sound of the gentle waves rolling on the beach of the lake. Her favorite thing to do is spend time with these two. 

All her worries seem to slip away. Even when they’re doing nothing, but sneaking onto old man Howard’s property for a nighttime bonfire, Sansa feels at home. Robb carries on about another crazy night with Jeyne as if she and Jon don’t already know far more than they should about his relationship.  


Sansa rolls her eyes as Robb begins talking about a moment between he and his girl at the pool house the other night. She can’t help it. She’s happy for Robb, really, but the way he carries on about Jeyne sounds ridiculous at times. She wonders if he even realizes how love sick he sounds.  


“What?” Robb throws her way, not missing the way she eyes drift skyward.  


Sansa shrugged she shoulder. “I just don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just sex. I just think the whole thing is overrated.” She explains.  


“That’s just because you’re with Ramsay. That prick is a twisted piece of work, San. Probably can’t satisfy a girl if he tried.” Robb laughs, throwing his head back as if nothing is a bigger joke than Ramsay, second only the Sansa’s other ex-boyfriend Joffrey.

The mention of her boyfriend makes Sansa’s lip purse tightly. Robb’s comeback kills any sarcastic remark she could muster… Because he’s right. 

Ramsay doesn’t care about anyone, but himself. Everyone knows that, most of all Sansa. 

She’s only with him, because he likes her and his father is her step-dad Peytr’s boss. Both her mom and Peytr had made it clear when Ramsay started showing interest her junior year, she should be a good girl and make him happy. 

So she does, playing the role of a good girlfriend and part of that means sleeping with him, because that’s what’s expected after dating for over a year, but she doesn’t like it, never has.

Seated beside him on an old log, Sansa can feel Jon’s eyes on her before she ever turns his way.  


“It’s like I keep saying, you should dump that loser.” Robb continues on, but Sansa has heard it so many times before all she can do is offer him a subtle nod, because he doesn’t understand. Her family needs and expects her to be nice to Ramsay.  


“Toss me another beer, would yeah?” Robb asks Jon, just before Sansa feels Jon turn into her side, reaching for the cooler behind them.  


“You deserve better, Sansa. Someone gentle.” She hears him say over the crackle of the fire. His breath warm and tingly against the shell of her ear as his mouth lingers just a breath away. 

A shiver runs down her spine as his lips find her cheek briefly. Warm and soft, and gone all too soon as he reaches to grab Robb another beer. Everyone knows Ramsay is an asshole, is callous, but for a split second she wonders if he knows how rough his hands can really be.  


Jon hands Robb the chilled longneck, before turning back to Sansa, his gaze penetrating into her as the fire light casts shadows along the contours of his face.  


The pull of Jon’s eyes funnel’s her vision and brain. She can tell he wants to say something more, but he’s not sure if he should. Compassionate and noble, Sansa knows Jon puts thought to his words in a way Robb often doesn’t.

Sansa’s heart feels heavy under the weight of Jon’s stare as his words float around in her head. She knows he hates Ramsay. Knows he’s heard her reasons for why she is with him, but doesn’t understand why she stays. 

He’s told her before she should leave, especially after Ramsay is cruel or humiliates her. But this is one instance that Sansa hates to admit it, but Jon just doesn’t understand.

As the daughter of a prominent family she has expectations. Upsetting Ramsay could backfire on Peytr and then that would only make things more challenging at home. She doesn’t always like her place, but she understands it, what is expected of her.

Jon barely places his hand upon hers where it rests on the log between them when a crashing noise cuts through the peaceful night. A billowing grumble follows as all three kids shoot each other a glance of understanding before jumping to their feet. 

It’s old Mr. Howard and he sounds as angry as ever. Mr. Howard hates when local kids sneak onto his property, but the beach surrounding the lake is a little slice of heaven and the Stark kids aren’t the only ones who sneak out there to enjoy it.

Abandoning the bonfire and cooler, Robb, Jon, and Sansa take off for the car as Mr. Howard appears from the tree line a few yards back hollering at them.  


Running full speed, Robb easily gets ahead. Athletic and agile, Robb is nearly to the car while Sansa is still trying to weave through the thick bed of trees, regretting her choice to wear sandals.  


“Seven hells Rob, wait! I’m in my sandals!” She yells as she watches him yank open the driver’s side door to his car and jump in.

Her sandals slap at her heels as she runs as fast as she can without falling. She can hear Mr. Howard getting closer as he hollers at them.

While a part of her figures Mr. Howard is probably more bark than bite, she’s never stuck around to figure it out. Sansa watches as Robb starts to bring the car around the side she’ll break free of the trees from when she feels a steady hand take her own. 

Her eyes flash to Jon who’s suddenly in front of her. She had lost track of him in the trees, but she was sure he was up there with Robb.

Knowing he came back for her, Sansa grips his hand and flashes him a smile he misses as he guides her through the trees. Pines needles and fallen branches snap and crunch beneath her feet, Jon is quick as he tugs her along, but Sansa doesn’t hesitate, they’re almost to the car, and every time she starts to trip, Jon is right there, his hands strong against her as he straightens her out.  


They break through the trees and reach the old backroad just as Robb pulls up alongside, throwing open the passenger door for them. 

Sansa turns back as a loud thundering noise crashes behind her. Her eyes meet old Mr. Howard’s, the fury in his gaze freezes her as she feels Jon’s arm wrap around her waist and pull her into the car. 

It had happened so fast, Sansa doesn’t realize until they’re speedy off into the starry night that Jon had pulled her onto his lap in the passenger seat as they sped away. Readjusting in his lap, Sansa snuggles into Jon as his rough hand finds her cheek.  


“You alright?” He asks with dark eyes searching.  


“Of course she is. Sansa’s tough.” Robb answers for her as he gives her leg a quick pat and flashes them both a wide smile that gleams in the dark.  


Slipping from his hand, Sansa buries her face in the crook of Jon’s neck as she burrows in against him. She could have just climbed into the backseat, but she finds this she where she wants to be, snuggled against Jon, her best friend.  


Her nose gently nuzzles his neck before she speaks. “Thank you.” She whispers before placing a quick chaste kiss upon the groove of his neck. His body heat radiates into her, her eyes fall closed as she feels his fingers tangle in her hair.

 **Present**  


A week ago her husband died and Sansa found her world turned on its axis, violently and without warning. And the hardest part… It’s not the sound of his step, even though the silence is now deafening. 

It isn’t the absence of his presence everywhere she turns, even though the gaping hole he has left feels like a darkness ready to suck her in any moment. 

It’s his things, his belongings, that smell of him, that look like him, little touches that remind her at every turn of what she’s lost, of what their son has lost, and that no matter how hard she or Robby cries, he’s never coming back.  


A loss this big is enough. More than enough to drop you to your knees and leave you pleading with the hands of time to go back. Just go back. Losing her husband in a fiery accident on a winding snow covered road, it was too much, but the filth the media has dug up since has at times been more than she could bear. And once you know that, there’s nothing left to do, but stand before the tsunami and brace yourself as the wave swallows you alive.  


Somedays she feels like she might be able to do this, some moments she can breathe, like today as talk of the arrangements circles around her. The lawyers flurry, there’s a lot at stake here. Robb Stark was a well-respected man, he stood to gain everything after his parents passed, was already deep in the family business. 

The Starks are one of the most prominent and wealthy families in north east. There was large sums of money that had to be handled, policies to cash out and business to arrange. All technicalities Sansa didn’t understand and frankly didn’t give a damn about, but she was the head of house now, until Robby came of age. As Robb’s wife, mother to his son, the burden fell on her.  


And that’s how Sansa finds herself seated at Robb’s desk, rifling through papers, looking for what the lawyers need. She was going to be strong. She was going to hold them all together and she actually believed that until her eyes scanned her husband’s desk. 

Spotting the framed pictures of happier times now pasted, times they would never share again. One picture in particular catches her eye. It’s a photo of Robb and little Robby on a hike. Nearly matching hiking boots on, flannel’s and khaki’s ready to conquer the mountain.  


The thought her little boy will never get to experience that again, never see his father again. He’s so young, barely five. Knowing that he’s going to miss so many years with his father. Knowing he may end up not remembering him well at all- 

Suddenly it’s all crashing down on her. They were supposed to be in that car. Her and her son were supposed to be in that car, but Robby had been sick that night, so they stayed home and Jeyne went instead. 

A choice that haunts her to her core. She’s survived the last week walking on a thin sheet of ice watching as it cracks beneath her feet. Until a moment becomes too much to bear, a moment like this with a truth that’s too painful to bare and suddenly it’s all flooding back on her. The ice breaks and she sinks into the icy water below.  


Her mind floods with thoughts of the crash. Like flashes, she can picture it so clearly in her mind. Robb skidding out on black ice. Gripping the wheel as he tries to pull the SUV back into his lane. 

But the grip is too much, or he turns it too far, and suddenly the car goes barreling over the side of the cliff. Slamming through small trees and bushes, rolling down an unforgiving steep as dirt and debris fly about the cabin of the SUV before coming to a bone crushing stop below. 

She wonders what Robb must have thought trapped inside. Did the glass pebble him with shards as it broke? 

Could he feel the tree branch lodged in his gut?

Did he smell the gasoline before the fire broke out? 

Did he frantically try to escape only to realize he couldn’t? 

Was he still alive when the flames took hold? 

Did he call for her or his mother in his final moments? 

Did he think of them as death came to greet him?  


Her heart pounds as a violent gasp rips from Sansa’s lips, her shoulder’s shake as her body lurches forward from the pain. 

Hot tears cascade down her face as she buries her mouth in her hands trying to stifle her cries. It’s these moments where she’s not sure how she will make it through this. It’s moments like this she’s not sure how she can be strong enough to get her son through this. 

Their marriage may not have been perfect or what she imagined when she was a young girl who believed fairytales came true, but he became her best friend. And now he was gone.  


But then she hears it. A noise off to her side. She can make out the shape of someone’s standing in the doorway. 

Choking down her sobs, Sansa wipes the tears from her face as she tries to compose herself. She can only imagine how she must look falling apart.

Grabbing the file she thinks is the one the lawyer is looking for, Sansa tries to put on a brave face as she rises from the Robb’s desk chair and turns for the door.  


“I’m sorry. You’ll have to forgive me I haven’t-“

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Jon says as their eyes meet. Watching the woman he adores, his oldest friend stand in shambles before him. Her grief as raw and deep as his own.  


Sansa can hardly believe her eyes as she sets the file back down on the desk. She can’t believe he is here, she thinks as her feet move slowly toward him. 

How could he not be? His brother just died in a horrific car accident off HWY 118, but still…

The last time she saw him was the Christmas after Robby was born before he left for a military program up north. Her mind quickly tries to calculate, four years. Four years and barely a word.

“You’re here,” She says with astonishment heavy on her breath, disbelief and uncertainty focused in her eyes. 

He looks older, she thinks- rougher, his beard short, but fuller than the scruff she remembers. The bun on the back of his head tells her his hair is longer too. And his eyes… His eyes look as defeated and sad as she feels.  


“I’m here,” He says a quiet beaten breath.  


Their eyes are locked for a long moment as a shiver runs down her spine and in an instant an urge deep within her heart sends her flying into his arms. Jon meets her embrace with equal force, wrapping her in the safety of his arms.

She buries her face in the crook on his neck, sucking in the scent of pine and smoke as she clutches wildly at him. 

It’s the feel of his arms around her, his fingers digging into her sides, suddenly she’s seventeen again. And her biggest worry in the world is Ramsay and her step-dad Peytr, but it’s ok, because with her best friend by her side it’s not so bad and there nothing she can’t get through.  


“I’m so sorry Jon,” Sansa says against the warmth of his neck, her voice wavering as she realizes she’s crying again, because she’s not seventeen. 

Because they’ve both lost just lost someone so precious to them. Because they’re both lost in the grips of grief. Because she’s only twenty-three and now a widow, and he’s barely twenty-five about to bury his brother, and nothing is ever going to be the same again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here you have it, the actual update and I even went a step further to add more to ensure where I'm trying to take this is hopefully conveyed.

**Present Day ******

Eight days ago her husband died and nothing has been the same since. 

Standing in the funeral parlor, Sansa focuses on her breathing- One breath in, one breath out. 

Jon stands to her side, Ned and Catelyn to the other as the funeral director leads her into the show room. A room filled wall-to-wall with caskets, open and on display. The sight is jarring and startles her at first glance. 

Sansa has seen caskets before, but this time it’s different. This is time it’s painfully personal who’s going to lie down in it. 

Scanning the room as Ned discusses the delicate nature of their situation with the funeral director, a deep rich redwood catches her eye. She’s drawn to it as her feet move numbly across the showroom. Their voices a distant hum. Their words indistinct. 

Watching her wander, Jon diligently follows. Lost in his own grief, the only thing that makes sense to him now is looking after his brother’s family, protecting them the way he knows Robb would want. 

He barely recognizes the look in Sansa’s eyes, so distant and buried within. She hardly notices him, she hardly notices any of them.

She’s beautiful in a plaid wool skirt clinched high on her waist with a fitting black cardigan on top. Her appearance is deceiving, she plays the part well, but Jon knows better, she’s barely holding it together. 

Reaching the casket, Sansa runs her hand over the smooth edge as her mind drifts.

Her mind begins to wander, spurring a distant memory from a time long past. 

_She’s walking through the woods with Rob and Robby. Robby likes to run ahead so Rob can chase after him while gleeful laughter spills from the little boy. Her son is propped on his father’s shoulders when Sansa finally catches them. They’re staring up at an old pine as Rob explains to Robby the trees on the other side of the country grow so tall they reach for sky. Robby grows excited by this, he wants to touch the sky. His father promises he’ll take him one day to see the trees that touch the sky. ___

“You like the redwood?” She hears like an echo in the distance.

“Rob always loved redwood. The trees that touch the sky.” She murmurs faintly to herself as chills ripple under her skin.

“This one will do.” She hears a deep voice speak up suddenly from beside her. 

The voice snaps Sansa out of her own head. Turning, she finds Jon standing beside her, worry in his eyes as he silently mouths ‘are you ok?’ to her.

Silent alarms begin to ring inside Jon. The look in her eyes. Somethings not right. Nothing is right and worst of all he doesn’t know how to fix. 

Taking care of her, looking after his brother’s family, it’s the least Jon can do for Robb, but looking into Sansa’s eyes, Jon can’t help but feel he is failing.

“Is the redwood what you wish, Mrs. Stark?” The funeral director reiterates. The hitch of his voice saying he wants to hear it from her. 

Her gaze shoots to the man, suddenly aware he and her family are standing around her. So lost in her thoughts she had lost her bearings.

“The redwood?” She questions him back unsure of what he means.

“For your husband, his casket.” The director delicately reminds her.

With his words the reality of where she is comes slamming back into her. 

Sansa’s gaze sweeps around the room. All the caskets, her husband’s casket, what he’ll be buried in. 

It feels like a sled hammer slamming into her gut, knocking the wind from her as the thought hits her- They’re going to put Rob in one these. 

They’re going put him in, close the lid and he is never getting out. 

How is supposed to choose what box they seal him in? 

It’s that thought, the thought of burying him that makes the room start spinning. The walls start closing in as Sansa begins to sway and grabs for the edge of the casket to steady herself. 

As soon as she feels the smooth edge of the wood, Jon is there pulling her tightly against him. 

“Breathe.” She hears his gruff voice command against the shell of her hear. 

A sharp gasp sucks past her lips. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until that moment. 

Clutching tightly at Jon’s leather jacket, Sansa focuses on the feel of Jon’s heart beating beneath her cheek, lets it guide her breath as she hides away from the world in his arms.

“Just go with the redwood and be done with it.” Jon practically barks as he leads Sansa out of the showroom and back into the foyer. 

He hates the formality of it all. It feels so impersonal. Picking a casket for his brother’s body as if they’re buying a damn car. 

None of that says what a wonderful man Robb was. None of it shows the kind of brother and best friend he was to Jon their whole life.

 

**Six Years Earlier ******

Ramsay had humiliated her yet again. So many times Sansa had lost count, but this time it had been different. 

This time Jon had been there to see it. 

Busy with college a lot of the time, he and Robb didn’t have time or an interest in attending parties with their hometown circle of friends anymore- With spoiled rich kids, they were supposed to pretend to like. 

But this party had been at Margaery’s parent’s penthouse in the city and since Robb was out with Jeyne and Sansa was in town, Jon joined her. 

How could either of them have known Ramsay would pick that night to drink too much and start making out with Mryanda in front of everyone. 

Not the first time she’s caught him with her, but the first time it was for all to see.

Jon wasn’t the kind of man who was quick for a fight, but the fire she saw burning in his eyes when he spotted Ramsay was enough for Sansa to ask Jon to give her a ride home before that look in his eyes made him do something very unlike himself.

They wind up back at his place, because Sansa doesn’t really want to go home. 

She had told her mom and Peytr she would be staying at Margaery’s, but that hadn’t happened. 

Robb was still out with Jeyne when they got to the apartment Jon shares with his brother and judging by the way Jon spoke of it he didn’t expect him back anytime soon.

“I’ll grab you a shirt you can sleep in.” Jon offers, after locking the door behind them. 

Sansa’s wounded ego is comforted by his kindness. She had worn a short sundress to the party. She has wanted to look pretty. 

Be the kind of girl Ramsay would be proud to have on his arm, even if he didn’t deserve it. A part of her still couldn’t stop the urge to keep up appearances. 

And if she’s really honest, she may have picked the dress too, because Jon would be there. 

Jon’s kindness, his big heart, it stirs all her mixed emotions back to life as she follows him to his bedroom, loitering around the doorway. 

His words from the night of the bonfire a few months back sprout back to life. They had started like tiny mustard seeds. 

She should have forgotten them, let them slip away in the wind, but instead slowly they had grown inside her into a size and strength far too dangerous for a girl who lives her life around the expectations of others.

It’s the pull in her heart and the pain from tonight that makes her ask. “You once said I deserved better than Ramsay. Someone gentle. Do you still believe that?” 

Jon stops rummaging through his drawers and slowly turns to face her. 

His eyes are sad, his face solemn, and she knows it’s because it pains him to see her go through this.

“Yeah, I do. He doesn’t deserve you Sansa. He never did.” Jon finally says with absolutely confidence as his eyes hold steady with her own. 

His words linger between them for a moment before Jon turns back to his drawers to find her a shirt. 

Things change as you get older, Sansa knows that, but some things had stayed the same for so long she never imagined they could shift so suddenly on her. 

Like the way she sees Jon. He’s been one of her best friends for so long she hates to remember him as anything else. 

But over the past year things have begun to… Change. 

She noticed it first at the end of summer. Noticed the way she became keenly aware his body had changed as they lay out by the pool. 

Noticed the way there was more definition, more contour to his muscles, his stomach tight, he looked lean and strong in a way she doesn’t remember him being before. 

She had cursed herself for noticing it back then, but other things kept popping up. 

Like the way his once awkward messy look now appeared scruffy and she dare say a little sexy. 

And she’s not the only one who’s noticed. Jon is as oblivious as ever, but Sansa doesn’t miss the way the girls look at him now.

Sansa hates when these thoughts find her. 

Hates this invasion between their special bond, but sometimes when their eyes meet, there’s a look in Jon’s eyes that makes her think he might be having some of the same thoughts. 

She reminds herself almost instantly that it can never be. 

She’s bound to do her mother and Peytr’s bidding. Bound to a boyfriend who doesn’t loves her as much as a he yearns covets her. 

And Jon… Jon deserves someone who doesn’t wonder what people will think, what her parents will think, if she gets involved with Ned Stark’s illegitimate son. 

A girl who doesn’t care about the scandal that would ensue. That’s why Sansa hates these thoughts.

Sansa knows she should forget she asked him, the same way she should have forgotten he ever said it to begin with. 

She knows it’s dangerous the way Jon’s words make her think, the way he can make her feel. 

The way it makes her suddenly aware she’s torn between what she wants and what others expect of her. 

But tonight, she’s tired of feeling used. 

Tonight, as Jon stands with his back to her, in a faded grey tee-shirt, his black curly hair lay messy and unkempt, all Sansa wants is to feel something real.

Moving to him without a word, Sansa stops directly behind Jon. “You can wear this.” He manages to get out as he turns back around before she silences him with a kiss. 

Standing in his dimly lit room, there’s a chill in the air from early spring, but all Sansa can think about is how Jon’s lips are warm and softer than she ever imagined. 

Sansa had excepted some resistance as her mouth found his, but to her complete surprise, Jon kisses her back. 

Their kiss is soft and tentative, like the brush of a feather, but electric, shooting sparks through her whole body with the touch. 

Emboldened by his reciprocation, Sansa reaches for Jon’s sides to touch him and suddenly Jon is pulling away, backing out of her embrace.

He takes a few rapid steps back, his hand running uneasily over the back of his head, before he looks back up at her. His eyes like a trap holding her captive.

“That’s not a good idea. You’ve been drinking and your upset.” He says matter-of-factly. 

Always so noble, enough honor for ten men, but he’s wrong about this, she insists. 

“I’m not drunk, Jon and I didn’t kiss you, because of what happened tonight.” Sansa answers back, her words stronger and more sure then she even meant them to sound.

“Then why?” He challenges her back.

Sansa’s heart starts to pound, moment of truth. Put up or shut up. 

She should have known he would demand answers. 

Jon isn’t like other boys, he isn’t pacified by the presence of her desire, he wants to know why it’s suddenly there. 

“Because I want to feel something real. Just once I want to know what better is.” She finally admits after a long pause.

“You’re with Ramsay.” Jon points as if she could ever forget the cage she’s trapped within. 

“And he could never show me that. He isn’t capable of it.” The words spill past her lips with such raw honesty they startle even her as they hit her ears. 

The alarmed look that begins to build in Jon’s eyes urges Sansa to put out the fire she just started before Jon starts digging around for answers to what she means by that. 

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal, Jon. Just once.” She tries to justify, tries simplify as if this could be that simple.

Jon stares at her for a long moment, his dark eyes slowly turning into a deeper shade of night, Sansa can see he wants this, wants her, but he’s battling the feeling he shouldn’t. 

Battling the feeling it wouldn’t be right. Battling the same common sense rattling inside her too. 

“It’s not a good idea, Sans.” He forces out on a rough breath, trying to be strong, trying to be noble as he runs a heavy hand down his face.

Sansa knows she should leave it, but like the rest of this night she finds herself moving toward the flame instead of away. 

She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her, but she doesn’t want to let this one go. 

She doesn’t want to live with this regret eating at her the rest of her days, another ‘what if’.

Quietly she moves to Jon, his eyes barreling into hers with every step. 

Caution and fear blinding in his pupil from her boldness. 

Stopping before him, Sansa searches his eyes as she speaks. 

“You’re my best friend, Jon. You’re the only person I trust to do this with.” The words pierce inside her heart as an undeniable truth. She needs him in this moment.

The fear in Jon’s eyes falters with her words, and Sansa can see he understands what he means to her, why she chose him, as she slowly leans back into him. 

Her mouth finds his again, her kiss soft as not to spook him. 

But as Jon’s hand digs into her hair to hold her close, kissing her back with a passion she swears will burn her lips, Sansa knows Jon isn’t afraid. 

Jon’s kiss is like fire. It’s hungry and consumes everything it touches. 

His lips are full and soft, but he kisses her with such intensity and zeal Sansa wonders if he’s desired this before.

Breaking from the fervor of their kiss, Jon rests his forehead against hers as his thumb sweeps gently across her cheek.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” His husky wanton breath fans her waiting lips.

Heart pounding, body slowly burning from within, Sansa has never wanted anything more. 

And she knows she may be damned for this, but she doesn’t care. 

“Kiss me.” She implores him.

All too eager to please her, Jon’s mouth is back upon hers in a heartbeat. 

His kiss full and wanting as he tenderly sucks her lower lip into his mouth. His tongue feels warm against her skin before it reaches out to touch her own.

He tastes of coffee and mint, but his tongue is strong and gentle as it discovers hers. 

Breaking their kiss, Jon pebbles her jaw with tender kisses as he moves for her neck. Sansa’s chest moves faster, her breath deepens as his mouth explores her sensitive skin. 

No one’s ever kissed her like this. Ramsay’s hands are always rough, his kiss forceful as he tries to steal a whimper from her that only turns him on more.

A sigh of pleasure leaves Sansa’s lips, her head falls back to give Jon more access as he places hot wet kisses down her neck and she grows steadily more drunk off him. 

Reaching her pulse, Jon sucks down hard as Sansa clutches him, her body curving into his as she craves to the feel of them touching all over. 

Her hand tangling in his curls as the other grabs for his back to hold herself steady.

Cold air chills her sensitive skin as Jon pulls back, before the warmth of his breath finds the shell of her ear. 

“If you want to stop at any point just say the word.” Jon whispers before he nips at earlobe. 

“Don’t stop,” She practically begs as her nails gently massage his scalp. 

Discovering a side of herself she never knew existed, chills run down her spine as Jon course finger tips tenderly slip the strap of her dress off her shoulder before his searing mouth covers the spot the where fabric once claimed.

When it’s over, Sansa lies there staring at the ceiling as Jon takes care of the condom and settles on the sheets beside her. 

His heavy breath fills the room to match her own, echoing through the otherwise quiet space. 

Staring at the popcorn ceiling, Sansa’s heart aches in her chest as the world settles back around her. 

“So that’s what it’s supposed to be like?” She asks quietly, the words sounding ridiculous even to her. 

Her body begins to feel bare as she reaches for the sheet down around her hips and pulls it tightly over her chest. 

“Yeah,” Jon answers in a heavy exhale.

Her gaze is lost on the ceiling as her thoughts consume her, Sansa finds it’s a quiet panic that fills her, that makes her heart constrict. 

How she’s ever going to close her eyes again and not remember. 

Not remember the feel of her hands tangled in Jon’s thick curls, tugging as her body falls over the cliff of ecstasy and shatters below. 

How is she to forget the feel of Jon’s mouth exploring every inch of her- places she never imagined he’d want to taste. 

Forget the feel of his burning kiss upon her lips, her legs bound around his hips, the rhythm of their bodies while Jon rocks inside her as she curves her hips to meet him. 

How are things supposed to go back to way they were when she knows what’s like to have Jon’s dark haunting eyes barrel down on her with every thrust, looking at her as if she’s his entire world as their bodies move like two piece meant to be one.

And now she has to go back to Ramsay. To pretending everything is ok. 

Sansa has never been more aware of the chains that hold her down than she is in that moment. 

Her throat tightens with emotion she tries to hold it at bay, as tears she wants to push down burn her eyes.

“Still friends?” She manages to choke out on a quiet breath that’s trying to hold the pieces of her broken heart together.

“Always,” Jon answers without missing a beat as he slowly shifts on his side to face her. 

Immediately, he sees the tears pooling in her eyes, the one that escapes and starts running down the side of her face before Sansa quickly wipes it away. 

“Hey,” Jon calls out in concern as he reaches for her face, but Sansa is quick and darts away from his touch, shooting up from his bed.

“I should go. Margaery is probably wondering why I left.” Finding her feet, Sansa moves for the end of Jon’s bed, searching the floor for her discarded dress. 

Finding her panties, she yanks them up her legs before reaching for her dress.

“Shit,” Jon spits out as he jumps from his mattress. 

Grabbing the first pair of boxers he finds, Jon yanks them on and is reaching for her in seconds. 

Sansa grips her dress bunched against her chest when Jon takes her shoulders and turns to her to him. 

As their eyes meet, the concern she sees blinding in his dark eyes breaks her down. 

She knows she can’t hide this from him as the tears start to slip from her eyes.

“Sansa wait,” Jon says as his hands slip up her shoulders to cup her face and wipe at her tears.

“I’m such a stupid girl sometimes. I don’t know why I thought it would make me feel better to know what I can never have.” She blurts out on a shuttered frustrated breath as the tears slide down her face. 

Angry with herself, angry she had to test the fates, pock a sleeping bear as if the truth wouldn’t eat alive. 

She wishes she never knew. Wishes she had stayed in her dream of denial. 

Sansa sees now ignorance truly is bliss, because now she can’t imagine going back to what she has after having a taste of him.

Without a word, Jon pulls her to his bare chest, his arms encircling her. 

Her dress falls back to the floor as she desperately grips Jon in return, burying her face in her crook of his neck as the tears keep coming. 

Skin to skin, wrapped in his arms, Jon wants to tell her she can be his and he can be hers all she has to do is say the word, but he won’t, because he knows she won’t either. 

The look in her eyes as they made love told Jon louder than words ever could that she loves him and far deeper than just a friend, but he also knows she won’t go against what is expected of her. 

She can’t bear to be the bad daughter, the scandal. So, Jon can only love her like this.

 

**Present Day ******

 

It’s snowing the day they bury Rob. Seems only fitting for a Stark. 

From the snow they come and to the snow they will return. 

A group of the Stark’s closest family and friends sit in neatly lined rows while others stand stoically in the snow like pillars of strength. 

All in black like a coal stain in the snow that surrounds them. 

Sansa and Robby sit in the front row, Catelyn and Ned to her side along with Bran, and little Rickon; while Jon stands off to the side with Arya, along the length of a tree barren from the harshness of winter. Feeling removed from it all, removed from them until the feel of his sister’s hand squeezing his own grounds him once again. 

As they lower Rob’s casket into the cold unforgiving earth, Jon remembers the day he had moved into the Stark home. 

His mother had just died, he and Robb were seven, Arya was barely two, Bran was just a babe. 

And while Jon knew his father he hadn’t known him well. Being the product of an affair had always put a wedge in his relationship with his father, especially since he had stayed married to Catelyn. 

He had been a scared, broken hearted little boy moving into a new life with a step mother who hated him, but Robb had changed all that. 

Robb had welcomed him as a brother from the first day. 

Robb’s excitement, the way he didn’t care how Jon had come to be his brother, had made all the difference for a little boy who thought his world had just ended. 

The thought that he would never see that big shining smile again, his brother, his best friend, Jon could barely carry the weight of that loss. 

Throughout the service, Jon’s gaze kept drifting back to Sansa. Dressed all in black, her skin pale as the snow, her hair like a flame in a sea of darkness. 

When she finally rises, he can’t help but think she’s the strongest person he’s ever seen, far stronger than he feels. 

Taking her son’s hand, she leads him to the edge of the pit Rob has been lowered into. 

Her eyes look broken and shining with unshed tears, but she doesn’t cry as she grabs a fistful of the frozen earth, guiding her son to do the same before she lets it slip from her fingers down onto the redwood casket below as Robby sniffles and quietly cries. 

Jon wants to go to her and Robby. Wrap them in his arms. Tell them it’s ok. Comfort them the way he knows Robb would want them to be comforted. 

Tell Sansa she can cry if she wants, scream. She won’t find any judgement from him, there has been more than one moment during this service he wishes he could do both of those things but he can’t. 

He can only imagine Catelyn and the others wouldn’t take too kindly to him moving out of the shadows. 

As Sansa turns away from Rob’s burial, her young son’s hand tangled closely with her own, Sansa leads them away as the first tear slips from her eye. 

No pleasantries, no well wishes from those who mean well. 

Jon can see it in her eyes as she lifts her son into her arms and moves past him in the snow. 

She isn’t going to thank anyone for coming. She isn’t going to listen as they offer their condolences, both real and fake. 

She isn’t going to dutifully watch as the guests say their goodbyes to Rob. She’s tired of playing nice. She’s tired of being who they expect her to be.

 

The day is spent at the Stark mansion. Mourning the loss of the young wolf as his friends would say. 

Sansa and Arya tried to hide in the family room. 

Arya feverishly texted Gentry, planning her escape from this production with people who were never going to miss her brother like she will, while Sansa stayed close to her son like a mother wolf, more protective than ever now that her cub is all she has. 

Sansa forced a smile when appropriate, but was mostly detached from it all. 

Combing her fingers through her little boy’s auburn locks while trying to find the words to comfort him. 

Jon hung back, sulking against a wall, watching it all, but never interfering. 

These people had no idea what his family had just lost. Had no idea the brother Robb had been, the father, the son. 

He wasn’t about to mourn with people who had looked their nose down to him most of his life in a way Robb never had. People who hadn't spoken out publicly on behalf on Robb's honor when the scandal with Jeyne came out.

People moved about the house like shadows on the wall. There, but not present. 

With all the emotion it’s no wonder little Robby fell asleep curled up on his mother’s lap early in the evening. 

Catelyn insisted she and Ned take them home, but Jon insisted he come along, insisted he stay to look over them. 

They shouldn’t be alone tonight, Robb wouldn’t want that, he said. 

And despite Catelyn’s silent glare of scorn Ned agreed, because he remembered something most have forgotten… 

Once they were all friends- Sansa, Rob, and Jon.

It’s Jon who carries Robby to bed when they get home, Sansa one step ahead turning on the nightlight and pulling back the blankets. 

The little boy clings to him in a way Jon can’t help, but wonder if he thinks he is his father returned to him. 

A thought that tightens his throat with emotion, because he understands the pain of a losing a parent so young. 

But Jon embraces his nephew. He isn’t half the man his brother was, never felt like he quite measured up, but if it comforts Robby, makes him feel like he has his father for just a little longer, Jon will gladly pretend. 

As he lays the boy down on his bed and steps back, Jon can’t help but notice how much he looks like Robb with auburn curls and pale skin. 

Watching quietly as Sansa tenderly sweeps the hair off her young son’s forehead to place a gentle kiss, Jon knows Robby will be ok in the long run. With the love of a mother like Sansa, Robby will get through this.

Jon is actually surprised when it’s wine he finds Sansa breaking into when they go back downstairs after putting Robby down. Jon looks over the kitchen, all marble and steel. 

It’s beautiful, clean and modern with a slight touch of rustic along the butcher’s block and ceiling beams that tell him a true Stark lived here. 

Robb’s home from the outside looks like a grand colonial, with white panels, black shutters, a wraparound porch, and more rooms than this little family could ever need, but maybe they planned to fill it with more little ones. 

Then Jon remembers Jeyne, and thinks, maybe not. 

It’s guilt he feels when he remembers this is the first time he’s seen his brother’s home. 

Guilty he stayed away, but he had his reasons. 

Reasons he is all too reminded of as his eyes land back upon Sansa. It had just been too hard.

Her fire hair now hangs down in waves along her back. Her black dress clings to her in modest, but temping ways. 

She’s as tall and lean as he remembers, but having Robby has brought a slightly curve to her hips that makes his blood pump a little harder. 

She’s as beautiful as ever. More beautiful in fact, even in her pain, and he feels like an asshole for even thinking that. 

She’s his dead brother’s wife and even now, he still can’t stop wondering what could have been.

Sansa jerks him from his thoughts as her turns back to him with a glass of wine far too full for any regular occasion. 

Taking the glass from her hand, Sansa moves back to the living room, expecting him to follow.

Lowing herself onto the oversized leather couch, Sansa takes a big sip of her wine, then she takes two more. 

She’s halfway through her glass before Jon even sits down, but he can’t judge her, he’d swallow that whole cup on one gulp if could. 

Anything to numb the awful truth, even if just for a little while.  
Reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV. 

The first station to pop up is the news and instantly Sansa stills for a long moment as her dead husband’s face flashes across the screen.

Jon watches Sansa stare on as the story mentions the funeral, Jeyne’s upcoming funeral, and any other salacious tidbits they’ve uncovered. 

He watches her eyes start to water. Jon is just about the reach over and take the remote to the change the channel when Sansa shuts the TV off. 

Without a word, she finishes off her glass of wine in one quick gulp before rising from the couch and moving back toward the kitchen. 

Following her lead, needing to make sure she’s ok, Jon downs his wine and moves for the kitchen. 

He finds Sansa resting against the marble counter tops when she speaks. 

“Don’t listen to them, Jon. That’s not who your brother was. I don’t want you thinking ill of him, because of this.” 

Jon stares at the back of her silently for a moment in the brightly lit kitchen. 

“You knew about Jeyne?” He asks, suddenly seeing Sansa in a whole new light. 

He had hardly been able to believe his brother would do something like that, let alone that Sansa knew.

A sudden dry and low laugh escapes her with his question. 

“Everyone’s always watching me now. Trying to figure out the big mystery. At least you have the balls to ask.” 

Taking hold of the open bottle of wine on the counter, Sansa pours herself another glass, and takes a large gulp before she turns back to Jon, staring at him for a long moment. 

“You remember how much he loved her, Jon. We were just teenagers who had too much to drink and were foolish one time while they were on a break. I wasn’t supposed to get pregnant. But Rob was so noble, so good. He wouldn’t abandon me when I needed him most. He wouldn’t abandon his child. So he chose us, but I knew how much it pained him. He didn’t stop loving her, because he married me, that wasn’t the relationships we had. And when she came back into life I gave him my permission. I wanted him to be happy, Jon...”

Jon stares back at Sansa hardly able to believe what he is hearing. 

Jon didn’t have a lot of experience in love. There was so much he didn’t know or understand, but he couldn’t imagine being ok with his lady being with another, any more than he could imagine cheating on his wife, regardless of how they came to be. 

He knows the circumstances that brought his brother and Sansa together, but he never imagined they would do this to each other.

“But he was your husband. What about your happiness?”

Swallowing another big sip of wine, Sansa says things she swore she would never reveal, but with a sigh she finally lets it out. 

“Don’t think we didn’t love each other. That’s not what I’m saying Jon. We did, in our own way. Rob took care of me. He was good to me. Never humiliated me with Jeyne, but we were together for Robby. I don’t regret that, neither did he. And as for my happiness, that is Robby. He was my happiness then and he still is. The best thing that ever happened to me, but what me and Rob had was different. We loved each other. We just weren’t…”

Having heard the saddest truth to find him a long time, finally seeing his brother and Sansa’s marriage for what it really was, Jon opened his mouth and said what he knew she couldn’t say. 

“In love.”

An hour later, Sansa polished off the first bottle of wine and is halfway through the second when Jon steals it away, because even though she disagrees, Jon’s confident she’s had enough when her steps start to sway. 

Jon can’t remember the last time he’s seen her this drunk, but he can’t blame her either, his veins are humming with a good buzz too and his heart is broken enough to understand the need to just feel numb. 

He’s happy to look after his brother’s family, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, but this house is so full of Robb it makes his grief suffocating at times. 

With a little bit of convincing Jon gets Sansa to let him take her to bed. 

She resists at first, but he eventually Jon convinces her sleep would do her some good after the long day she has had. Get some rest, Robby will be up in the morning and need you, he had said. 

Bracing her from behind, his hands at her waist, Jon leads Sansa up the stairs and into her room. 

He's helping her over to her bed when she suddenly twists in his arms until she faces him. 

“No, no, no, I hate this room.” She pleads. “I hate this house. It reminds just me of him and the fact that he’s gone. I want it to all go away, but I can’t. Robby needs it. He needs it to remember his father and he’s so young, Jon. I’m sacred, I’m scared he’s not going to remember him.” Sansa finally breaks when faced with the bed she once shared with her husband, the wine still on her lips fueling the fire. 

Her words are a fury of emotion Jon struggles to make out she spills them so fast, but it’s her tears he understands, the desperation of her voice that sends him pulling her against his chest, into his arms where he can try to comfort her, because it’s the loss he gets. 

Spoken in any language, in a jumble of words from a drunken grieving wife, it’s a cry of pain he’d know anywhere, because it’s radiates through the hollows of his own heart. 

This home is beautiful and haunting with Robb’s absence. 

He feels powerless in the face of her grief, in the face of his own. 

He wants to fix this, make it right, but he sees now nothing short of Robb coming back will.

Jon holds Sansa close, gently stroking her hair and back as her words rattling deep within his bones. 

“He won’t forget. You won’t let him and I won’t either.” Jon promises on a heavy breath as he holds her trembling body close and kisses the top of her head. 

He can’t bring his brother can’t, he can’t undo what’s happened, but he can look after his brother’s son, make sure that little boy knows what an amazing man his father was and how much he loved him.

“You’re gonna leave just like before.” Her voice is muffled, but sure as it slips up from between them.

His heart sinks with her words, because it’s true, in his youth he had run, but he isn’t running anymore.

“Not this time. I promise.” He swears it even though he knows it shouldn’t. 

His life isn’t here, his job isn’t here. 

He came to mourn his brother, help his family, but now that he’s here, he can’t imagine abandoning Sansa and Robby when their world is lying in broken pieces at their feet. 

He can’t imagine letting Robb down like that.

Sniffling back the tears, Sansa pulls back from his chest to meet Jon’s gaze. 

Jon finds himself mere inches apart from her, his hands on her waist to steady her as her hands have found their way around his neck. 

Her eyes are tear stained and puffy. Her gaze broken and beaten down, but still the most beautiful he’s ever seen. 

His heart starts to pound, he flinches slightly from shock as her hand reaches for his face, her fingertips running faintly along his beard.

Her eyes reach out for him in the faintly lit room and the look in them tells him it’s time to go, time to leave before this moment becomes anything more than a gaze that shouldn’t happen between two broken people.

“I understood why you left, Jon. I knew that you would…” 

“Sansa…” His whispered breath cautions as Jon gently grabs her wrist and pulls her hand from his face. 

She shouldn’t say these things. They shouldn’t be talking like this. 

 

They shouldn’t be this close. It isn’t right, but the sadness in her eyes coupled with the touch of her hand tells him she desperately needs something. 

She needs him, but he knows that’s a fire too dangerous to play with. 

Especially when she’s in such a vulnerable place. 

But she doesn’t listen, or doesn’t care, as her broken eyes barrel into his. 

“But I missed you so much.” She confesses on a thick whispered breath as if he she needs him to know. 

As if she needs him to fill the hole inside her. Their eyes hold with an intensity that puts Jon at unease before she slowly leans into him.

Jon’s so stunned he can hardly believe this is happening until the feels of her warm breath hit his lips. 

A bottle and a half of wine and Jon’s not even sure if she knows it’s him. 

Perhaps she thinks he’s Robb, perhaps he could be anyone, but the look in her eyes from just moments ago, makes him think she knows it’s him. 

And God help him, he wants to kiss her. 

He had loved her long before Robb. She had almost been his first, but none of that mattered now. 

And hasn’t matter since the moment he knew he lost her for good, the moment she told him she was pregnant. 

What could have been doesn’t matter after burying his brother, doesn’t matter to a widow who’s drunk and deeply grieving. 

Bringing a halt to this, Jon evades her mouth and brings his lips to her forehead as he gently cradles the back of her head. 

Trying to comfort her emptiness and pain the only way he can now.

“I missed you too… So much.” He whispers against her skin. 

Reminded she had once been his best friend, and his world hasn’t been the same without her. 

Slowly he pulls back Jon finds silent tears sliding down her face. 

Cupping her cheeks, Jon tenderly wipes away her tears with his thumb. 

“We’re going to get through this. You’re not alone.” He promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon have a complicated relationship, no doubt, but so did Sansa and Robb. This story explores how messy relationships can be, and how easily our lives can change in the blink of an eye. So what do you think of the actual update?

**Author's Note:**

> I have not given up on my other story, but I don’t have any inspiration for it at this time. I know, it sucks. I’m hoping this story will help reignite that fire for me. This story only has four parts and will reach it’s completion by then. Comments are encouraged. Let me know what you think.


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